1910] The Ottawa Naturalist. 123 



more properly known as the Great Northern Diver, Gavia imber- 

 The cry of this bird is well known to the lover of the rod in 

 the solitudes of Lakeland; it is a weird uncanny sound to the 

 tenderfoot, a plaintive rrxournfu) cry, especially before wet 

 weather. 



I am not writing this story with a view of puffing up the 

 Grand Trunk Railway and the Algonquin National Park as a 

 holiday resort, for that fact is amply expounded in the various 

 folders issued by that illustrious corporation. 



The trout season had just been heralded in by a burst of 

 fine weather and the old longing to get busy with "the spots" 

 came over me before the plague of flies prevented pleasure. 

 The dale was 7th May, 1903, the day warm, trout hungry, 

 speckled beauties up to three pounds waiting to be caught. 

 Black bass were also abundant but out of season and biting 

 freely. I managed to get some lovely silver minnows at the 

 rear of the Superintendent's cottage and armed with a light 

 greenhearc rod, a reel with not too much line on that somewhat 

 old and rotten a double length casting line of fine gut and a 

 pellet of buckshot for a sinker, I started off to fish on the long 

 trestle to the east of Algonquin Park Railway Station. I was 

 out for sport and I certainly got it. My first strike was a bass 

 which fought gamely and was returned to the water somewhat 

 tired. I put on a fresh minnow and cast in again into about 

 fifteen feet of clear cold water; hardly had the bait gone down 

 five feet when it was siezed and carried away at a rapid rate, 

 and thinking I had hooked a large trout I paid out line to enable 

 the fish to swallow the hook well before striking. I struck and 

 the pace increased and my little rod bent almost double, without 

 a sign of checking the rush, and when my line was more than 

 half run out up comes my fish in the shape of an old cock loon 

 hooked apparently firmly by the beak. I had to lower the tip 

 of my rod as his weight was too great for it and simply held on, 

 trusting to luck that the line would hold. I was near the end of 

 the trestle and managed to edge on to firm ground. Then began 

 a battle ro^^al. The bird, dived, twisted, turned, flapped his 

 wings and tried to fly but he got dragged down by a straight pull. 

 Finally, the line got twisted under his right wing and the hook 

 was torn from his mouth and became fast in the big sinew of the 

 right wing. Now, he had more power as his head was free and I 

 had great difficulty in holding him down. To make matters 

 worse my reel dragged out and fell on to the ground at my feet 

 and I dared not stoop to pick it up as all my attention was needed 

 to mind the bird. Before long he began to show signs of fatigue 

 and I managed to drag him shorewards by degrees, the line 

 getting tangled at my feet. I had till now been fighting for an 



